Night Musings
by fangiosfriend
Summary: Han, Leia and a campfire on Endor. Mild M rating just to be sure.


**It's great to be back!**

**This is a one-shot to get the mojo happening again. **

Endor was really quite beautiful. Lush, green foliage and monstrously towering trees soaring above the clouds, were a welcome relief for the Rebel Alliance team from their stark confinement within mother ship and silence of space. Untainted oxygen was dank from ripe and rotting vegetation. An almost impenetrable and never-ending maze of one tree after the other. Pulsing with life.

The green had long disappeared into the inky night that was now surrounding Han like a heavy blanket. It fell swiftly and left them with no choice but to hunker down for the evening or risk blowing their cover using artificial light. Despite the oppressive dark, the forest was active with distant shrieks, rustles and movements of nocturnal animals going about their business.

Han swept his hand over the familiar contours of his blaster for the hundredth time just to reassure himself it was still there and settled himself more comfortably against a huge crevasse of the smooth tree trunk rising behind him that almost completely enclosed the crackling and snapping fire.

Luke was off doing mysterious Jedi Knight stuff – mediating maybe. Dotted around and under the canopy of massive trees, everyone else was asleep. Or in Threepio's case, shut down. Well, everyone but him, a couple of sentries and R2, who was constantly surveying the outskirts of their small makeshift camp with comforting sweeps of his proximity alert. While Han didn't doubt the little droid's loyalty, it wasn't nearly enough early warning defence in his eyes. Nothing could replace the sharp eye of Han when there was so much at stake. And what was really at stake was sleeping directly across from him on the other side of the fire.

Why had she come? Didn't she realise that the moment she stepped into their stolen shuttle, she turned a relatively simple mission (blow up the shield generator and destroy the Death Star - piece of cake) into instant double jeopardy? Thanks to the presence of Her Royal Stubbornness, he now had her safety and wellbeing to guard as well. Perhaps it was a welcome burden, Han grudgingly admitted, because at least he knew where she was. If she was stuck on that cumbersome, lurching Calamarian excuse for a ship during the attack, she'd be a sitting duck.

Not that he'd actually bothered to voice these thoughts. He'd wised up long ago and knew all too well that it was useless to argue with Leia. If she decided she would come - come she would. There was a reason she was rebel leader and pain in his arse. It was a rare and shining moment on Hoth if ever he came out on top at the end of one of their ferocious, albeit enjoyable sparring matches. This situation was no different. Except now he openly loved her. Funny how he'd never felt so strong - feeling so helpless.

Han glanced up and across the fire, roving his eyes over the small form of the Princess as flickering light from the flames moved across the delicate features of her face. When sleeping, her vulnerability was candidly laid bare.

Despite her crushing responsibilities to the Alliance, the relentless strain hadn't marred the evidence of her girlish beauty. Rosy full lips were parted in breath, a soft cheek upturned towards the fire with a small hand tucked underneath it and long, sooty lashes created half-moon crescent shadows. Her face framed by strands of ebony hair which was pulled back gently from a smooth and graceful brow. She was - heart-breakingly lovely.

He marvelled that someone so slight had awakened such a powerful and roiling ache inside him. At first he was clueless to what triggered this bewildering, aching restlessness that incessantly irritated and loitered.

He tried to dismiss it as the result of the never-ending tedium of being caged in the bowels of a chunk of ice for months on end. For someone used to living with a death sentence hanging over his head, flying at break-neck speed from one side of the galaxy to the other dodging bounty hunters and the Empire, life had become rather dull and startlingly predictable. Except for Leia. She was never, if anything, dull or predictable.

Nothing would shift it. It didn't matter how many rations he won at the make shift card table he'd set up on the side of the mess hall, how hard or how long he worked on The Falcon's maintenance, how many patrols he led across the barren blinding wasteland or how many women he indifferently flirted with. The only relief he got was riling Leia up and sitting back to watch the fireworks.

When they finally kissed on The Falcon, it was like the cogs of a clunky, off kilter machine had clicked into place and they were humming at peak efficiency. Ironically, it wasn't until this was snatched away from him that he truly realised what he had.

The fates being what they are, just before his world became the blank timelessness of carbonite and he looked upon Leia for possibly the last time, he finally realised the ache was never boredom or restlessness. He loved this woman. He wanted her. He wanted to be with her. A woman who brought out the best and worst in him and who bravely spoke the words first. The first and last person he would ever love. And he had only precious moments to live with this new dawning.

As he held Leia's pained eyes to his own as he was slowly lowered into the freezer hold, he found that for the first time, he could face possible death with the knowledge that he loved Leia and that he was loved in return. It was bitterly sweet. Having something so priceless to lose. And while he would fight for his life as he always did, it was a pause of pure truth and harmony.

He hadn't said the words back yet. Soon though. Without any of this Empire and Alliance stuff hanging over them. Soon.

They still hadn't slept together. Jabba, six months of carbon freezing and then the preparations for this war had rudely and ruthlessly seen to that. Strangely, Han wasn't fazed. Normally, he bed women he was attracted to as soon as he could. It was all about getting said women out of his system, so he could concentrate on getting back to the important stuff. Smuggling and money.

Instead, Han could count on half a hand the kisses he and Leia had shared. Innocent, sweet, white-hot kisses that blazed through him and left him craving more. Before Leia, a kiss was a means to continuing on to more fruitful carnal delights. A way to merely start proceedings. But Leia's kisses were so vastly different. Yes they were a beginning, but they were also part of a very slow, unwinding and beautiful dance. No rush. Not that he didn't want to, of course.

Even now, under the bows of this tree, he had a strong compulsion to quietly step around the campfire, slide himself under her blankets and press his chest into her back, pulling her close, absorbing her warmth and scent as his arms encircled the softness of her curves.

He would then, very gently, glide his lips down the back of her white neck, now and then allowing the tip of his tongue to trace a path. She would slowly wake and blink her large brown eyes up at him. Then she would turn to him, and bestow a lazy smile, drowsily becoming aroused within their intimate cocoon as he ran his lips over her throat, behind the shell of an ear and across the bridge of her nose, teasing. Then he would relish tilting his lips to hers and they would commence the next step of this dance, kissing in earnest, without interruption, hands searching and caressing, loving one another….

Han roused himself from his reverie with guilty start. This would not do. He picked up a stick and savagely poked the fire. He had to stay sharp. Focused. If the mission were a failure, they could both be captured or killed. If they were lucky, they wouldn't be tortured first.

Brutally pushing away all feelings of tenderness, Han took a deep breath and ran his hand over his blaster yet again, peering into the unknown depths of the darkness. Watching.

Under the warmth of her blankets, Leia sighed and turned over, and Han felt himself calm.

His purpose was now very clear. He would love and protect this woman. Or die trying.


End file.
